


Bulletproof Weeks

by universe



Category: NCIS
Genre: Bitterness, Canonical Character Death, Drabble Sequence, Episode Tag, F/M, Gen, Killing, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-12
Updated: 2009-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-10 11:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/99071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universe/pseuds/universe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She cuts her hair on a Wednesday.</i> Seven days in the life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bulletproof Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> This is my way of dealing with _Judgement Day_ and the events leading up to the episode. (I'll never not be bitter.)

She rejoins the agency on a Monday.  
_Jenny Shepard, Director of NCIS_, her nameplate says. The mere thought almost makes her laugh. The man who used to be her teacher is now her subordinate, stubborn as ever, and the irony of it all can only be chalked up to fate.

She cuts her hair on a Wednesday.  
She's always been proud of it, the long red waves, the softness of it, but it was a necessary change. Everybody tells her she looks younger now, more modern, and maybe she enjoys the compliments just a bit too much, but it is not like she has much else to be happy about.

She sleeps with him on a Saturday.  
A late night visit, nothing unusual, but she brought dinner and he had wine, and in the morning there is no awkwardness, only the mutual understanding that this should not happen again (shouldn't, but will), and she walks away with a smile on her face.

She watches him leave on a Thursday.  
Mexico, he says. He will be leaving for Mexico tomorrow, and there is nothing she can do to make him change his mind. She never had that kind of power over him, and she knows she never will, but admitting it to herself still hurts just a little. She cannot bear the thought of never seeing him again, so she files his resignation as a permanent vacation instead and waits for his return.

She kills la Grenouille on a Sunday.  
It's fast and quiet and easier than it probably should be, but she's waited too long for this to hesitate even a second. No, she pulls the trigger without regret and sees the recognition in his eyes when the bullet hits him in the head. She watches him fall to the ground and waits for the peace of mind to come. It never does.

She finds out she is dying on a Friday.  
Dying. No cure. Dying. No cure. She repeats it to herself over and over and over again until it finally gets through, and she breaks down the minute she steps through her front door. She is glad the weekend is ahead, she would not know how to come up with an excuse for having to take a few days off, she only knows that she can't tell anyone, can't explain that her life will be over soon enough. Dying. No cure. She sits in the entrance hall and cries until there are no more tears to shed.

She takes her last breath on a Tuesday.  
Everything is planned, the only way it all makes sense, and dying should not feel this good, but it does. Adrenaline, endorphine, the blood rushing through her veins (she can hear it in her ears; it is beautiful). She is not alone (Mike is there, will be until the end and possibly even _after_), and she will not be forgotten. Her life comes to an end, but when she dies, it's on her own terms, and she finally finds peace.


End file.
